Look At The Animal That I've Become
by Sally Michaels
Summary: Chad Danforth is unhappy, he's lonely, he's angry. Read to find out why. I'm not too sure on the pairings but there's going to plenty of them! Warning, contains sexual situations, language, family problems, self harm, and violence. Chapter 6 is up!
1. Chapter 1

**This is rated M for language, and adult situations**

**A/N.**

**Please let me know if there are any errors or glitches in my fic, regarding to the original movie. I'd be happy to correct them, thank you!**

Troy's the good guy. The smart. The funny. The good looking.

Always has been, always will be. Always shared his toys in preschool, brought cool stuff to show and tell in the third grade, got asked out because he could shave his chin when we were fourteen. He made straight A's, shopped at Abercrombie and Fitch, and was always on time for everything.

He was basketball champion for the team Wildcats and was lead in the winter school musical. He dated the smartest hottest girl in our year. His family was wealthy. His parents were together, happy, cute. Even small things that weren't perfect didn't bother him. He didn't care if he drove around a rusty truck, he didn't mind not being voted Home coming Prince, and he wasn't bothered about not having the nicest cell phone. And just for being content and cheerful about his small put backs, he was loved even more by friends, teachers, and parents alike.

His life was like those old T.V shows. Smiling, frozen in bliss, perfect.

We can't all live like that. Being Troy's best friend, I'd be a lying piece of shit to say that I wasn't jealous. Compared to his commercial happy home, mine was a nightmare.

I'm Chad Danforth.

I'm not the leader of anything.

I'm the best friend, the sidekick, the substitute.

It's been that way since I can remember.

My family isn't happy, I don't get good grades, no one notices me on the team except for coming up with our trade mark "Wild Cats Cheer", I don't have a car, I don't have anything nice.

I'm dating Taylor McKessie. She's pretty, and funny, and smart. She says she loves me. I say I do too.

Why I don't tell the truth, I don't know.

I don't love her. She's nice and everything. But she's too uptight, too judgemental, and she gossips constantly. She's cool to hang out with sometimes, but the most we ever do is hold hands. We've been going out for over a year and I'm still not allowed to kiss her.

And she's never been to my house, and she nags me constantly because she wants to meet my parents.

I don't want her to.

My family is, to put it delicately, fucked up.

I'm the third child, and youngest. There's Harper, and Andrea. Twins, three years older than I.

All three of us used to make tents in the den with blankets and chairs and eat Oreos and tell ghost stories with flashlights.

That was a long time ago.

When I was fifteen, Harper was killed in a car accident.

Nothing has been the same since. My mother hasn't worn any other color than black for the last few years. My father lives in his office.

And Andrea snorts cocaine every single day.

And I just play basketball.

I'm known as the go lucky happy guy. Always smiling, joking, and tossing the ball around my legs.

I smile a lot because it's easy. It's easy to look happy. It's easy to make everything a big joke. It's easy to wake up every morning to live a lie.

It's easy to lie.

Everyone knows about my brother, even though I didn't tell anyone. The first few months, people avoided me, unsure what to do or say, afraid of me. Afraid of death. Afraid of those acquainted with death.

And I realized that no one would ever treat me normally unless I went back to being that stupid ass who took nothing seriously.

So, I taught myself to laugh and tease and hop around again. And everyone was relieved that Chad Danforth was back. No one had to be all kind, understanding, and shit.

Troy of course still knew it was tough. He's very sympathetic, and shit but we never talk about it, and we only hang out at his house.

My life was all right before Harper died, we never had all kinds of fancy stuff but my parents worked hard, and we kids were healthy and relatively happy.

But now, I'm almost eighteen, its been almost three years and its still like it happened yesterday. Time heals no wounds, it deepens them. Cuts them even further into it you, marking you for life. Every day, walking in my front door is a nightmare.

The screaming, the violent verbal fights, the tension, the tears.

It's a war zone.

I don't want to explain it to Taylor but she's too fucking dumb.

"It's ok, I'll understand." She said.

But if she did, she wouldn't bitch at me.

Troy can sing, like really well. He was in the school musical, and everyone loved it. I won't lie, it was pretty awesome. He gets lots of attention because he can, he never did it really before and you have to admire the guy for trying something so new.

I wish I could sing. I never thought about it before he did it. Taylor sings a little but she never bothers really including me when she sings along with everyone else. I don't really want to sing with everyone else but it ticks me off that she doesn't even ask. I don't know, maybe I'm just a whiny little shit.

School is really hard too, Darbus is always mad at me. My average is C's and D's. Sometimes I get F's, I always wonder if my parents will care and they never do. My mom just sighs and crosses herself and Dad just drinks his third Scotch.

I learned early, no one cares if you succeed or not. You have to do it all by yourself.

I love basketball, I'm just as good as Troy, but he's the playmaker because he's the Coach's son.

Its not his fault, I don't blame him for having it all together. Its just that I wish it was me.

Another thing, since Troy has been going out with Gabriella, I might as well be the paint of the wall to him. He's always blowing me off to go and hang out with her. We've done double dates a couple times but Taylor gets annoyed but Troy and Gabriella's PDA so now we're all pretty much divided up on Saturday nights.

Don't get me wrong, I like Gabriella, she's really nice. And smart, and makes Troy happy.

But why does he get her? What's so special about Troy? Why does he get Gabriella? Why am I stuck with everything shitty? The bad grades, the horrible family life, the irritating girlfriend, the fucked up stuff?

Why does he get the stuff he wants?

Why?

Why?

God, if someone knows, tell me.

_My very first HSM fic! I love Chad and I don't think there's any real angst fic that does him justice._

_Leave reviews! This is far from done, I'm just starting out!_


	2. Chapter 2

_**Hey guys! I'm not gonna lie, I'm nervous about this chapter, I'm really unsure how this is gonna turn out. Hope you all enjoy it!**_

Bad stuff's happened and still happens every day. But I pretend that it didn't and that it doesn't every day. So, I'm Chad the Class Clown. Always late for class, always fidgeting, always dribbling the ball, always teasing the teacher. The entire school faculty hates me. I know it. They pretend to be civil because it's the law, I think. But it doesn't stop me from being a smart aleck.

Today's no different.

We're in Miss Darbus' class, she's snapping out random stupid facts about something, I'm not even listening. Troy sits in front of me, quiet, eyes on the teacher. Taylor is behind me, she's rapt with attention. I hear her taking notes. What the hell for? Everyone else is quiet, studious. I feel like a loser because I'm bored.

I open up my desk; it smells like last months lunch, disgusting. There's a bunch of junk, old papers, soda cans, broken pencils, a scribbled on notebook. And I find what I'm looking for, a rubber band. Excellent. I find a couple more. The long thin kind. Perfect for shooting at the back of peoples heads. I could even use it as a slingshot. But what would I sling? Ahh, marbles! A small sack of the swirly kind of marbles lay in a heap in the corner of my desk. I glance around, no one notices me. I stealthily load up my slingshot and look for a good candidate.

Troy? Nah, he's too close and it'd really hurt. Martha? She's in the front and she's ok, kind of gross. I mean, like she's really…what's the word? Obese. Yeah and she dances. Like hip-hop. First time I saw it, I had to run to the men's room because I was so nauseous. No joke. It's just scary seeing a whale break it down.

Should I hit her? Her stupid earrings swaying back and forth spastically. I grimace.

Nah, whatever, she's a teacher's pet. She's rat on me, I know it. Kelsi? She's too nice. Tiny and squeaky but I wouldn't want to hurt her feelings, she's insecure enough as it is. And, I mean, if she lost the glasses and stuff, she could be fine. Ryan? Ehhhh, I don't know. It'd be funny to shoot his hat and watch it pelt off and fly to the ground. Those stupid fucking hats. Why the hell would any normal guy wear them? Its plain creepy. Then again, Ryan hung out with Sharpay and the Drama club, there was no way he'd escape the gayness.

Sharpay, ahh, there's someone I could hit. Ahem, tap. Haha.

She's sexy as hell but totally bitchy, I once fantasized about asking her out but once I got within ten feet of her, she turned her icy glare to me and I wet myself with fright. Now I just tease her, its better. Safer. She can't really retaliate because I just laugh her off or feign deafness, "Sorry, what was that?" I don't know, I'd like to get it on with her, but her mouth would have to be taped up. Or I could just put it to better uses. Pffft.

Ok, mind off Sharpay. Her sparkly pink top isn't skanky enough in my opinion.

None of the girls dress skanky enough. Gabriella is the worst.

All of her clothes are so ten year old, below the knee and up to the collarbone, not even cleavage for eye candy. It's not fair. I wonder how far she and Troy have gotten. Probably first base or further by now. I asked him about it once and he just blushed and shrugged. They probably are still virgins.

Dorks.

If Taylor would let me, I'd be all over her ass. Taylor's pretty, when she's quiet. When she's not, I wanna kill her. She's always talking about science and shit, stuff I don't understand. And then I feel stupid, and I hate that. I don't think she notices how angry I get.

Ooh, I could hit her with my slingshot, shit no, she's behind me, and so is Jason. Crap.

Ehh, I'll just hit Sharpay. Harmless. She won't know and if she does, she just glares. I slowly draw it back between my fingers, the rubber creaks. Miss Darbus doesn't stop talking, I take a deep breath, aim, and let go.

The marble goes whizzing through the air and smacks Sharpay square on the shoulder, hard. Ah, it actually looks painful.

She reacts predictably. She screams. And jumps up. I smile. She's so mad.

"Ahhhhh! MY ARM! MY ARM! MY NECK!! AHH!!!" she literally hops and squeals with pain. Miss Darbus halts and looks at her, peering over her huge bug eyed glasses. "Yes, Miss Evans?" she says, almost lazily. She's accustomed to Sharpay's outbursts, we all are.

Sharpay's gasping, clutching her arm, neck, and shoulder. No one says anything but simply stares; I glance at Ryan, her gay bodyguard who runs to her every beck and call like some pathetic pet. He looks calm and attentive, exactly how he did five minutes ago, making no move to help his sister. Heh, interesting. I tap on Troy's shoulder, he half turns. "Dude, what happened?" I ask.

Troy turns around some more and looks me square in the eye. "You tell me." He says back. I shrug, he knows. Whatever. He won't tell. He never does.

He turns back around, I shift my gaze over to Kelsi, she looks bored, tapping her pencil, making a rhythm similar to the one she composes for school plays.

Sharpay's still straining to tell Miss Darbus what happened. "A bullet." She wheezes. "A bullet came shooting out of no where and pierced right through me!"

I see Miss Darbus roll her eyes and adjust her dorky cloak thing. "Now, I'm sure there are no bullets in my classroom because there are no _guns_." She surveys the room; no one looks guilty because no one shot anything. Cept me, but I'm shameless.

"But honest to God, Miss Darbus! I've been shot! I'm critically wounded! There's no way I can possibly study now! I'm losing blood as we speak!" Sharpay rattled on, cradling her arm for affect.

I have to hand it to her, she's one helluva an actress.

"Where?" Miss Darbus queries. "Where what?" Sharpay whimpers.

"Where's the blood?" Miss Darbus snapped, her already fragile patience thinning with the dramatic Sharpay.

"Umm," Sharpay looks around, at us, as if we have some extra blood to squirt on her.

"Sit down." Miss Darbus barks. Sharpay pulls a pouty face and slides back down onto her desk chair, muttering evil things I can only imagine.

Miss Darbus starts talking again, I do a loud fake snore, and Jason laughs appreciatively. Darbus throws me one dirty look and I lower my face innocently, she turns and I waggle my tongue at her. Kelsi giggles at my naughtiness. Ah, I do love being loved for who I really am not. A wise ass.

Oh well, that wasn't as exciting as I hoped, but just another day in the classroom for Chad the Class Clown.

**HSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMSHSMHSM**

My locker is way overcrowded, as I try to yank out some books and keep my dirty gym shoes from falling out, I feel a tap at my shoulder. I turn and I see Taylor. She smiles, I smile back, and all the stuff I my locker spills out as if exactly on cue. Story of my life.

She laughs and stoops down to pick the stuff up and as I crouch down to help her, I realize I can see down the front of her shirt, a huge amount of cleavage from this angle.

Sweet, I remain, half standing, half kneeling where I can keep looking at it.

"You shot Sharpay." She says. I chuckle. "Would you if you had the opportunity?" I answer. She smirks at that one, "Chad, you shouldn't act up so much in class. It doesn't do anyone any good. You distract others and you rob from yourself."

Oh no, the ceremonial "You need to think about your future, we'll be graduating soon, blah bah blah…ugh I hate this routine. I used to joke and tease her about it but she'd get so upset, I learned to shut up. Now, I play it cool, I nod, smile, and say, "You're right." And "I know." As she rambles, handing notes and textbooks to me.

I straighten up and toss everything in and slam the locker shut, Taylor jumps slightly. "So, um, I just hope you take in what I'm saying, you know, I'm not saying it for my health, I just think you need to knuckle down and get serious about college."

"Yeah, yeah, hon, I know, I understand." I respond, truth be told, I hardly heard a word she said as I goggled at her jugs. However, I manage to tear my eyes away as I fiddle with my backpack strap.

She pauses, I know she's thinking that I'm a total buffoon because I'm not jumping up and down and crying with joy over her college counseling.

"So, hey, um, what're you doing tonight?" I ask, casually.

She shrugs, "Home work."

"It's Friday. You can do it tomorrow." I argue. She clicks her tongue in that ticked off fashion when I know I said something wrong.

"Well, do you wanna hang out?" I scratch me ear, since I got my ears pierced, they've itched like hell.

"Define hang out? A date? Your house? Nothing official or fun?"

Grrr, I hate it when she corners me and makes me feel bad because I can't take her actually out that much. No car and limited cash, it's hard to maintain a happy girlfriend, especially one from a well off family like Taylor's.

"We could go to the lake. Swim. It's hot." I offer. She rolls her eyes. "Swim? At night?"

"You act like it's unheard of." I say chided her teasingly. "It is." She says back.

I laugh, "Fine, square, I'll teach you the ways of the wild, swimming in the moonlight."

She purses her lips critically, "Uh, uh. It'll be cold at night."

"I'll keep you warm." I flirt.

"Whatever.' She smirks.

"So, we're on?" I want to know.

She adjusts her headband, "Um, yeah, I'll pick you up?"

"Duh, and wear your sluttiest bathing suit, no towel."

She scoffs again and heads down the hall, calling over her shoulder, "Seven o'clock!"

"A'ight!" I call back, and head off to basketball practice.

_K, guys, I know, not the most exciting chapter. But I'm planning this all in very dramatic transitional stages, it's just got a slow start. Please be patient and enjoy the rest!_

_And don't forget reviews! I need to feel loved!_


	3. Chapter 3

_**Enjoy my fellow HSM lovers!**_

It's October and I hadn't really thought swimming was all that good of an idea to begin, why did I suggest it? I mean, it gets pretty cold here at night. Like 60's or something. Oh, well, we'd have body heat, I hope.

Taylor's exactly on time as always. Seven at the dot. My mom's in the tub, I yell to her that I'm going out. She doesn't even respond. Some caring mother.

I run out the door before Taylor can pull her cute little black Saturn into my driveway.

"Whoa, boy! What's your hurry?" she said as I yanked open the car door.

"Drive." I command her, sliding in. She looks at me as she fiddles with her shiny dark hair. "Hon, I wanted to…"

"I know what you wanted to do!" I cut in, "Come in and meet my parents but I said no before, multiple times! How many times do I have to say it? Just drive the fucking car!" I bark. Wow, I bit my lip. That was so mean. Shit, why am I always doing this?

She looks shocked and offended, but she obeys. We sit in silence as she drives to the local lake.

"This is a date, right?" she says, finally.

"Whatever you call it, yeah." I replied, feeling thoroughly embarrassed.

"Well, in case no one ever told you, boyfriends do not yell at their girlfriends when the girlfriends are coming to pick the boyfriends up on a date!" she half yells, turning on her blinkers.

"No one did ever tell me that in fact. Thank you, but may I remind you that you said that this was not official date?"

Taylor scoffed, her angry eyes glued to the road.

"You can be such a…" she doesn't finish. Dammit, she's mad. Strike one.

I change the subject, "Did you bring a swimsuit?"

"No." she snaps.

"Hey! Why not? I told you to!" I complain loudly.

"It's cold." She sulks.

"Not that cold! Besides, I wore my swimming trunks!" I stick my leg up on the dashboard so she can see my orange baggy surfer shorts. She smiles a teeny bit.

"Feet down." She dictates, never breaking her gaze from the street signs. "You know you like it." I say. She shakes her head gently, so I say, "You love my hott hairy legs. You think these shorts are bad ass, girl, come and say it." She has to bit her lips to keep from laughing, she shakes head harder now. I don't move my sneakers, but I slide my hand up to her shoulder, and let my palm rest on her neck. She doesn't pull away. Yes, one point.

We get to the lake, it's large and deep and surrounded by trees and boulders. It's actually very private and impressively romantic, the silver moonlight beaming down, making everything glow.

I race down ahead of Taylor as she picks her way along like a tentative mother, clutching a basket and a towel, I run like a impulsive child and rip off my shirt, tear my off shoes and plunge head first in.

It's so cold it feels like an icy slap and makes my chest hurt. I'm submerged in the frozen blackness, and I resurface, gasping and screeching.

"Gahhh! Oh, fuck, its cold! Oh fuck its cold!" I yell.

I hear Taylor laughing, I turn around, and she's standing on a huge flat rock, like a dinner table. Her hands clamper over her mouth as she giggles. I like seeing her laugh, good sign. Two points.

"Are you coming in or am I gonna freeze my ass to death alone?" I say.

"What, I thought I was gonna watch you." She said. She looks serious.

"Oh fuck, no! You gotta come in!" I'm disappointed for real. Strike two.

She laughs again, even harder and pulls off her yellow sundress, and she's wearing a modest one piece with a U back. I survey it, ehh, better than not coming in at all. She crouches down and carefully dips her toe in the water.

"Eeek! No! Its sub zero!" she shivers.

"No, it's fine! Come in!" I beg, my teeth chattering.

She looks at my frosty breath and quivering form and says, "Uh huh." Very sarcastically.

"Am I gonna have to yank you in?" I feign exasperation.

"Don't you dare." She growls. I swim a couple laps and peer up at her, her bare ankle is a few feet away, I could grab and pull her down as easy as anything.

I reach up; she screams and runs from my wet outstretched hands. I laugh and pull myself out, shaking from the biting air around me.

She gets the towel, lifts it up over my head and around my shoulders, and rubs them lovingly.

"Poor, child." She coos. I smile and pull her close to me, wrapping her up in the huge soft white towel with me; she's trapped in my arms. She giggles and hugs my neck; I feel the goose bumps that were already there multiply. She lays her head on my chest and I rest my chin on her hair and take a deep breath of her sweet cinnamon scent. I feel her heart beat so close to mine. She's so warm, and she's so comfortable. And she likes me so much. I want to kiss her so badly that it makes my stomach twist just thinking about it.

"Ugh, you're all wet." She giggles and squirms.

"Pssh, yeah, I just was in the water." I say, still smiling. She begins to pull away but I tighten my grip. "Wait, no, stay here." I say.

"You're getting me wet too." She laughs. "Not as wet as you soon will be." I joke. Her eyes widen with my obscene remark and she begins to reprimand me but something happens.

Suddenly, before my brain could stop my heart, my hands, or groin, I grab her head and pull it smoothly to mine and our lips collide. Hers are warm and slick with lip-gloss that tastes like cherries. My mind is white, my world tips and all that there is, is the feel of Taylor. Her lips, her skin, her breath on my cheek. Right now, I think I love her.

I was just about to open my mouth to deepen the kiss when she lurches away, stumbling from my grasp. Before I can get out an explanation, she smacks me hard. My left cheek burns. Ow, fuck. Definitely strike three.

"What the hell gave you the right to think that you could kiss me?" she shrieks. I stare blankly, my heart still pounding from seconds before.

"Taylor," is all I can say. She holds up her finger at me threateningly. "Don't you baby me! I can't believe you! We came on this date to have fun, good clean decent fun. I'm not about to let you wheedle me into the back seat. You're such a pushy bastard. How dare you kiss me!?"

I'm looking at her in her dorky yellow bathing suit, and her hair pulled up all stylishly with chopsticks and her face so angry.

I drop the towel, and grab my shirt from the ground and start hunting around for my shoes as she keeps on yelling.

"Again, and again, you pull this on me. Sweet talk me in a isolated spot, teasing me, getting as naked as you possibly can, trying to charm me out of my clothes and then, bang, you spring like some sort of perverted animal! And this is the furthest you've gotten! What, are you going to go and brag to your buddies later on how you scored it?" she makes sarcastic air quotes with her fingers.

Then, she notices that I'm not really listening.

"Don't you turn your back on me, Chad Danforth! I'm not through with you yet!" I finally find my shoes, yank them roughly, turn, and face her.

"Well, I'm through with you!" I yell. Wow, I didn't say that, did I mean it? Maybe.

Her face pinches in confusion, "What do you mean?" she snapped.

"I'm just saying, that if I'm such a sex beast, then why do you agree to go out with me? Why do you tolerate my moves? When I do something or say something, why do you put up with it? Or smile and go along? Don't act so fucking innocent. You know it and I know it. And we both know it and we know we want it."

"Want what?" she sneered, folding her arms defensively.

"Sex." I said flatly.

Her jaw drops and she glances around nervously as if someone could hear us out in the middle of nowhere. _"I can't believe you just said that!"_ she half screams, half whispers.

I shrug, "I wanna sleep with you." I say simply.

She shakes her head so hard that bits of her hair are falling out their "do" and into her face. "No, no, no, and no. I'm not sleeping with you. I'm a firm believer in committed relationship sex." She states like a textbook.

"We've been together forever. What's not committed?" I'm incredulous.

"Eight months, not forever. And commitment means always listening to other person and being there for them!" She shoots back. "And you never listen to me! No, don't shake your head! You know you don't! You're always spacing out when I talk to you about anything important, don't like it it's not true. I'm not dumb; I see how far away your eyes are. All you want to do is play ball, flirt, and joke and pressure me into sleeping with you. Well, forget it!" she says dramatically.

She's right. Fuck, why do I have to like the smart ones?

"You're right." I say quietly. "I'm sorry, no more tricks to have sex, we'll have it when we're both ready. When I've really committed to you like I should have been all along. From this moment on, making you completely happy is my focus. And if that means, forfeiting other shit, so be it. I love you."

Wow, I sound so good. I'd give Tom Cruise a run for his money. I'm just trying to shut her up. I hate yelling. Yelling at home, yelling in the classroom, and yelling in the gym. God, please, I can't handle any more.

If it worked on Taylor, she's hiding it. Her lips are pursed and she studying me critically.

'Forgive me?" I say lamely. She nods briefly, "Uh huh." Then looks at her fancy delicate gold wristwatch. "Damn, it's getting late. We should go back."

"Can't be that late." I respond. "Its 9, and it's a school night. I'm driving you home. Now."

And I now it'd be dangerous to argue so we pick up or scattered stuff and get in the car and she drives me home in silence.

**HSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSM**

I open the front door very slowly, so it doesn't make a sound. I peer around cautiously, all the lights are out. Everyone's in bed. I come in and slide the door shut. The lock clicking in place booms like thunder, I wince and creep upstairs. The hallway is pitch black, Mom, and dad's door shut, but Andrea's isn't. Weird, normally her room is all behind locked up because she's paranoid. I go and look through the crack, her bed is empty. She's not home. No surprise, she's always out with Kimmel and Sean, her dorky friends, partying, getting stoned.

I walk in, feeling a little unsafe though I know perfectly well she wasn't there. Moonlight pours from the window, illuminating the room. Aretha Franklin and Johnny Depp posters line her walls. Her pink canopy lay unslept in. I inspect her vanity; trillions of little bottles of perfume, lotion, and body spray are in a neat row. Her glass jewelry case displaying lots of earrings. Her mirror was crowded with pictures of her and her friends. And one of her, Harper, and I about six years ago, so I was about twelve. I look so dorky; my hair wasn't as poofy back then. Harper's grinning, slightly self-conscience acne on his chin, and Andrea, sixteen and bearing a huge tin grin, her braces glinting. We're all so young. Something underneath hurts, but I shove it away and open up her top drawer.

Underwear. Lots of it. Fun kinds too, though it slightly gross to think my sister actually wears these and that guys like them. Thongs and push up bras. Lacy and black or pink and frilly or slinky and silky.

I sort of dig around, not knowing what I'm looking for. I find a box of tampons. Gross.

Then, my hand touches something small and crinkly. I pull it and inspect carefully.

A sandwich baggie full of pills. Dozens of tiny white pills. I recognize some of them. Ecstasy, Ritalin, and another smaller bag containing white powder. Undeniably cocaine.

I remember at school, people giving "Just Say No!" seminars about the dangers of drug abuse. It would be fun to try but Coach is so strict about it, I never dared to risk it. "Weed will earn you a one way ticket out of my team! No one screws around with drugs and the plays on my team! No one!"

I've smoked regular cigarettes a couple of times, Troy says they smell gross but I sorta like it. I wonder what this shit would feel like?! Wonder if anyone would even notice? Think anyone would care? Probably not, I tip six or seven tablets in my hand and put them in pocket. Placing the bag exactly where I found it, by the tampons. I leave her room, adjusting the door so it look just as it did before.

I keep a 12 pack case of Mountain Dew in my room so I crack open a can and before really thinking about it, I swallow three or four pills, swishing them down with soda. Then, I lay down in my bed without undressing or anything and I think about Andrea.

Its weird to think that something so hyped as dangerous, my own sister does daily. I knew she did. Her friends joke about it, and she's come home stumbling late at night, her pupils dilated. Mom and dad don't even look close enough to notice. How could they not see?

My stupid selfish fucking parents. The thought of them being so blind makes me so angry that I thump my head against my head board. Ow, mistake. I rub my scalp and bury my face under my pillow.

When's the fucking side effects supposed to kick in?

Ten minutes later, oh boy, did they….

_**Please, tell me what you think so far! I really am anxious to see whether this is good or not, so please drop me a review!!!**_


	4. Chapter 4

_**Next chapter! I actually have this new little goal in mind. See, Corbin Bleu's birthday is Feb 21**__**st**__**, he'll be 19! and I'm thinking it be cool to finish it by then. Not as a gift to him or anything, but more like a tribute to him, for all us crazy fan girls! Lol!**_

_**Tell me what you think!**_

I can't stop playing with my hair, I'm twitching compulsively, my vision is slightly blurry, I feel all cold and clammy, and my stomach feels ready to empty its contents. And it feels good. This is crazy. I'm out of it and yet super hyper. It's a little freaky but totally fun. I feel all shaky, excited, and goofy.

I need to take E more. I didn't sleep for five minutes last night and nor did I feel the effects all weekend. Troy kept calling me all through Saturday and Sunday on my cell but I just ignored everyone and kept swallowing those dumb pills and jerking it off in my bed. I snuck into Andrea's room again and again, and stole almost every last one of her pills. I'm in love with them. Andrea never came home so she didn't notice. She told mom and dad that she was with Shirley. What a lie. My parents were pretty much out all weekend, doing stupid church activities while their own fucking children were off getting stone. We love you, mommy and daddy. So, I took E last night, and then again just before leaving for school.

I don't feel the side affects of not sleeping one bit. I'm wide and on a total high. I'm not addicted, it's just one weekend, come on. They made me feel so good, I can't even describe. So loose and relaxed. I forgot about all my stupid bad shit and just felt the beautiful hazy chemical joy.

Ok, think class with Darbus is hard while straight? Try it on ecstasy and it's a whole other experience.

Insufferable torture slash the funniest thing I ever went through. I was late for class, which always earns eyebrow raisings from Darbus, but since I was fifteen minutes tardy, I earned a lecture.

"Do you understand that the fifteen minutes less in class, this holy chamber of knowledge, robs you fifteen precious minutes from feeding your fertile young mind?" She says crossly. And God help me, I laugh.

At her.

And I can't realty stop.

At all.

That kind of pisses off Darbus.

"Do not show such disrespect to me while I'm talking, young man!" she barks. And I laugh even harder, what the fuck is wrong with me?

"You're cruising for detention, Danforth, sit down and be silenced or I will send you straight off and you will again be denied more important knowledge." She says.

"Can a guy get a break? God, fine, I'll sit my ass down, Hitler." I say back. Oh my god, do I have a death wish? She looks shocked. I bite my lip to control my chuckling and slide down in my seat. Troy gives me the "What the hell?" look and Taylor appears disgusted but not exactly shocked. As if being a freak doesn't seem like anything new.

Probably isn't.

So, I sit for the next forty minutes, trembling and fidgeting like a two year old in a play pen. Darbus is boring but it's never been this bad. I'm so cold; I wish I had my hoodie.

I'm fishing around my desk, dropping things, making farting noises with my mouth, touching people's shoulder's and whispering loudly and being all in all, very noisy and disruptive, and I do that every day but this it's worse. I don't know why. I can't control myself. Usually, I know when to just shut the flap but now I'm incapable of common sense.

I throw a spitball and it hits Martha's cheek, she glowers at me and I just flick her off. I make horse noises when Miss Darbus bends over to pick up a pencil. And I gross Kelsi out by waggling my three week old tuna salad in a Tupperware box in front of her. People wrinkle their noses; cover their mouths, gasp, and squeal "Eww!"

Finally, Darbus has enough.

"Detention!" she yells.

I roll my eyes, "Can't, practice."

She swoops down and hisses, "Then, I suggest that you remain mute for the rest of my class or I will personally tell your Posse leader Bolton exactly why you are not there. And I will inform the principal as well."

I don't know why but something that creeps out a little.

"Fine, gosh, whatever, get away from me." I say, leaning away, and she tilts closer.

"One more blunder, boy." She threatens in her voice of death.

Then, she sweeps away, twirling her dorky cape.

I breathe and clench and unclench my hands really hard a couple times to calm down. Everyone's looking at me. I frown at all of them, "Mind your own fucking business." I say, all hostile.

I hear Gabriella give a little gasp and Zeke's eyes widen. Who gives a fly shit what Zeke thinks? Fucking pastry fag. I hate him. I hate everyone in this classroom. Troy, Taylor, Sharpay, Darbus, especially Darbus.

I stare at her with such intensity that I feel like my eye balls are going to burn red and melt out. I hate her so much.

And just when I was thinking of creative cruelty, the bell rings.

It's so fucking loud, makes my head and ears ring with it. I keep sitting at my desk; sulking, watching Darbus fiddle around with some paperwork when I hear my name being called.

"Huh?" I look up stupidly and Troy's waiting for me by the door, "Coming, buddy?"

"Uhh, yeah." I feel all disoriented as I grab my shit and join him in the hall.

Troy's sort of quiet as we walk down towards the gym, he kisses Gabriella briefly as she and Taylor prance off to their Chemistry class. Taylor gives me a cold look as she flounces away. What fucking ever.

"Ahh, dude, don't be ticked off, but the hell is wrong with you today? We didn't see you all weekend, what were you doing?" Troy asks, hoisting his pack further up his shoulder.

I scoff and shake my head as if that answers his question.

He waits, and I figure that I should say something.

"I was doing nothing, just the parental units were grumpy and I couldn't leave." I know he's wondering why I didn't pick up my cell.

"They took my phone." I lie. Then I say, "I had a shitty night on Friday, man."

Troy nods, his eyes on his shoes, walking slowly, listening intently.

"I went out with Taylor."

I don't know why I keep pausing.

"We went swimming."

Troy looks up in surprise.

"Friday? All weekend was freezing! Damn! Why'd you do that?"

I shrug, "I wanted to pressure Taylor into a sexy swimsuit."

"Did she?" Troy is interested, I can tell.

"No, she wore a stupid yellow one piece. And you couldn't even see her stomach. It was so stupid."

Troy doesn't seem amazed. "I know what you mean, man. But me, I got it worse, Gabriella wears those boy shorts when she swims so I can't even see her thighs all the way. It drives me crazy."

I have to admit, that _is_ bad, no lie.

"Well, at least Gabriella lets you kiss her and touch her some." I argue.

"Not at all the way." Troy says quickly.

I roll my eyes, "To hell with abstinence."

Troy laughs a little, "So, is that what were you trying to do the other night? Coax Taylor out of her virginity? Good luck!"

"I didn't have any luck." I say sourly, "She freaked out."

Troy's eyes light up, "What happened?" I know he thinks that this funny, but god dammit, its not.

"I kissed her and she shoved me away and started up like a banshee about committed sex. And, then she wanted to leave and said it was a school night but it was effing Friday! She must've forgotten that school isn't held on Saturday in her state of mind at the moment." I snarl. Troy presses his lips together, he's trying to laugh.

"You kissed her?"

I sigh and nod.

"Wow, um, dude, yeah, that's hard core." He's teasing me now. I shove him and he bangs into a locker, laughing. "Shut up." I say. He shakes his head, his preppy hair flitting around. "Ok, ok, my bad. Dude. I know, it must've been hard for you. But you should remember, nice girls are slow movers. Unlike Sharpay." He said the blond girl's name in a hushed tone and looked around the crush of people in case she was there eavesdropping.

Sharpay wasn't a slut, she didn't really sleep around, but the way she stalked Troy made her seem like one.

I grin, "I guess, but sometimes I wish I was dating that one instead of my own."

Troy steps back and stares, "You don't mean that!"

I feel bad now, "I don't know."

"You called her a mountain lion before and you were always complaining about her." He declares.

"Just because her golfing sucks doesn't mean I hate her."

"You diss her!" he keeps lowering his voice out of nervousness.

"Fine, maybe I do, but that doesn't mean I don't like her. I bad mouthed Taylor at first too!" I whisper back harshly.

Troy stops, we're at the locker room now and a bunch of naked wet guys are walking around. And somehow in the environment of, I don't know, manliness, this conversation seems silly and girly and gossipy. I want it to end now, I feel calmer now, though. Well, maybe completely drained and brain fogged is a better description. Like I just came off my buzz. I can see better now. And my hoodie too heavy but maybe its just the sudden waves of exhaustion flooding through me.

"Dude, do you want to ditch Taylor? Do you even like her anymore?" Troy asks me gravely.

I stall, "She's cool...sometimes."

"Don't stall, Chad." Troy snaps. Shit, he knows me way too well. He seems concerned, he keeps examining me closely. I feel like a freak. Maybe he'll notice that my pupils are like saucers.

"I wish I could sleep with her." I confess.

Troy grunts in slight amusement, and then says. "Dude, you have to wait till the girl's ready. I'd never ever force Gabriella to do anything she didn't want to. So, sex is out for me for a while yet. And you know that when you have that kind of sacrifice in a relationship, that it's real, dude. You need to respect Taylor, man, and stop thinking about what's on in your pants."

I know he's right, but I won't admit it.

"Maybe." I say sarcastically.

"Let's have this talk later, man, my dad's waiting for us, and he busts our asses when we're late." Troy says, slipping into his work out clothes. I nod, and follow the suit.

**HSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSM**

I sit at the dinner table, poking at these greasy chunks of broiled chicken. My stomach is begging me to throw up, and I can hardly smell the food without gagging so I just carefully prod at it. I glance at Andrea, whose home from her wild weekend party fest. She looks totally wasted, tired, and skinny. I notice that she's doing exactly what I'm doing, leaning on her elbow, eyes half closed, pushing her food around in little piles. We're like clones. Shit, that's scary. I sit up straighter and try to get my brain to cough to life.

Dinner has been a quiet affair for years now, and I'm not about to break the sacred ritual of silence. All there is, is the noise of forks scraping against the plates, and occasionally a gulping sound. But I attempt to appear more…normal. I blink hard a couple times and clear my throat.

My parents are both spacing out, my dad slowly butters his potatoes, his eyes on his plate, no where else. My mom drinks her water absently. They don't even speak to us, or each other. They don't ask what I've been doing all weekend or anything. They act like they're on drugs.

Fuck. I wonder if they are? That'd be so freaky. If all of us smoked it up and we all lied to each other about it. What if we all came out and told each other and we just got stoned together, in the living room.

I get a mental image of dad taking a hit from a bong in his arm chair while mom does ground up prescription drugs with a credit card. And Andrea and I just smoke dope.

They say a happy family is a medicated one.

Oh God, no. My family is fucked up. But please, please, please, my parents need to stay sober, for us kids. I can't handle any more crack heads. If they're on drugs, I swear to God that I'll kill them.

"Good food." I murmur, hoping to sound appreciative. Mom smiles vaguely. I take a deep breath and put a big bite of chicken in my mouth, my insides protest, but I swallow anyway.

But I'd rather swallow pills.

_**Come on guys! Review or I shall threaten to withhold updates! I'm serious! lol**_


	5. Chapter 5

_**Warning! This Chapter contains a sex scene, though not disgustingly graphic, I would like to forewarn all audiences that it is inappropriate for children. Read with caution. So if you're nine years old, please, do me a favor and don't read this.**_

_**K! on with it!**_

I have to stop stealing from Andrea, I'm taking E from her room as much as four times a week, I haven't tried the blow yet. She already is figuring out how that it was disappearing, but she has so fucking much of it. Why can't she share? She gets it free from that shady Kimmel who dealt with his uncle.

I need to find some other way to get it; East High was relatively drug free though there was some marijuana drifting around. Principal Matsui often brags about how his school was the cleanest in Alberque.

I would never ask Andrea in a million years. I don't know why, it makes me uncomfortable to think we both use the same shit and act as if we don't to each other.

So, I need to do some scouting if I'm going to find my own source. I start hanging out nearby the skaters when Troy and no one else really was paying attention. I listen to their burned out conversation, hoping for some information and receive very little.

Mostly they talk about skateboard stunts and Sharpay's ass, but one afternoon I hit the jackpot.

Dylan McCoy is standing a little conspicuously by the men's bathroom doorway, glancing around, his jacket clutched around him. I pause and kneel down and begin rummaging through my pack so it doesn't look like I was spying. And a couple of guys come out of the bathroom, eyes red, and they high five with Dylan. "Yo, that stuff is the shit, man! Can you get more?" one skinny skater with emo hair says.

Dylan smirks, "Course, dude, but let me check up with my friend. But I can get you more by Thursday." This pleases the skater. They do some more high fiving and fist thumping and leave. Dylan stands there a few more seconds, probably making sure the coast was clear. Then, he too takes off down the hall.

As soon as he's gone, I run into the bathroom, the door swinging shut behind me. Shit! The room is so smoky it's fogging the mirrors, the stalls are all open, and the toilets all look thoroughly puked in. Someone smoked it up too fast. Lightweights.

I need to get some of this stuff; I don't really know Dylan all that well. He is little creepy and quiet, but hey, if he's willing to sell me stuff at five bucks a hit, then he's my new best friend.

He said Thursday, today was Monday. I'll ask him tomorrow, and maybe he'd cut me into the deal too.

I can't wait.

I go to class smiling and Troy asks me what I'm so stoked about, and all I can do is grin and shake my head.

**HSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHS**

Thursday does not well. I'm mouthy to Ms Darbus and I guess it's gotten worse because when I call her a tyrannical bitch; she draws the line and sends me to detention.

Dammit, now when we I find time to see Dylan?

I'm totally angry when Ms Darbus assigns me to wash equipment when I show up at the theatre. There's millions and millions of sticky paintbrushes covered with gray and green paint and tons of paint splattered sheets and rollers. Coach Bolton is gonna have a cow when he doesn't see me in practice. I know he will.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

But I have to admit, there's a bonus to this long afternoon, Sharpay is the only other one down here and is practicing her solo backstage, fluttering her arms as she paces around, holding her sheet music. She sings really well actually, no lie. And dayyyyuuum! That silvery micro mini she is wearing has got me sprung!

But I have to pretend to be normal so I sit by the sink, pouring hot water over the brushes when I hear her speak to me.

"You!" not exactly polite but when was she ever known for it?

I turn, "What?"

I notice she rubs her lips together a lot, like smoothing her lip-gloss of something. It's sexy.

"Are you in detention?" she asks.

"No, I'm here because I loooove musicals!" I say sarcastically. "Shit, yes, I'm here on detention!"

She folds her arms, "Well, then, why did Darbus bail?"

What? "She's up there." I jerk my thumb upwards, referencing to the stage floor above our heads.

She shakes her long mane of hair; I watch it cascade around her shoulders like a golden waterfall.

"Uh, no, Mr. Humongous Hair, she's not. She left early."

Oh, shit! "Yes!" I say happily!

She rolls her eyes, and says as she sees me wipe my hands quickly and grab my pack, "What's your hurry? You know that you'll get in trouble if you don't finish."

I fake a glare, "You won't tell." I say.

She smirks, her lips smearing together, enhancing their shine. "Maybe I'll will!"

I stop, fuck yeah, she will, I drop my pack again. Shit. "Maybe, I'll kill you." I say, my tone mock threatening.

She laughs. Whoa, did not expect that one. If I pulled that one on Taylor, she would've flipped.

I'm realizing more and more that Sharpay is a lot cooler. I've never gotten a one on one before and I like it. She's hotter, much more relaxed, and funnier. Her sense of humor matches mine. It's refreshing. I feel bolder; maybe even the tiniest bit flirtatious.

"Oh, what will you do with my body?" she teases, I walk up to her slowly and she looks at me with those big brown eyes. I circle around her like a lion on its prey. "Maybe, I'll dump it off a bridge." I say. She shakes her head again and I get a whiff of her perfume, not cinnamon like Taylor, but a bright tropical scent. Like Hawaiian flowers or something or grapefruit.

"How uncreative you are." She chides. I stand behind her and think, "Then, I'll stuff you in the trunk of my car, drive out of the state, and bury you in some random spot."

She makes a "Tssk" sound, "You don't have a car." She says.

"Fuck, how'd you know that?" I'm incredulous, does she really know everyone's business like that. She turns and faces me and suddenly, we're really close, I see the tiny freckles on the bridge of her nose.

"It's common knowledge." She says simply.

I shrug, "Whatever."

She brushes past me, perches on a tiny stool and crosses her legs; I see the folds of her dress ride up, showing me that gorgeous thigh. I'm still staring at those killer legs when she says, "So, why don't you buy one?"

I scoff, "Not everyone is a princess." I retort.

She waves that one aside as she digs through her tiny sequined purse for something. "Well, earn up some money then, fucker." She says smoothly. I'm shocked and painfully turned on by hearing her swear. I wish Taylor would talk dirty. Shit, why am I comparing everything to Taylor?

"I can't." I reply. She finds a pack of Marlboro's and a pink glittery lighter, she lights one and takes a deep drag, making me crave one. She looks up and me and exhales, and the smoke swirls around her face, framing it. It's actually beautiful.

"Why can't you save? What are you blowing you money on? Your girlfriend?"

Her mentioning of Taylor sudden jolts me to reality. Makes me ashamed of the imagery that had been going on in my head the past few minutes.

"No, I don't spend one dime on her." I say, half bitterness, half embarrassment.

She smiles, and the long thin white cigarette dangles from her pink shiny lips and looks so perfect. Smoking fits Sharpay, her badass bitchy persona. It's sexy and smoky. Literally.

"Then what is sucking your money?" she asks.

I shrug, go, and sit down beside her on a lower stool, she looks down at me, and I see a mole on her neck. It looks good. Her legs shift beside me, if I got in front of her on my knees, I'd be able to see up her skirt.

"Do you have a job?" she wants to know.

"No." her questions make me feel sulky.

"Are you gonna get one?"

"Have to." I say, sighing.

"What for?" she wants to know, I smell her breath, so delicious and toxic.

I don't say anything.

"A car?"

I shake my head.

"Taylor?" a more vigorous shake, she laughs.

"What then? Can't be college. You bonehead athletes don't study." she takes another drag and lets it pour from her nose, and my forehead burns with humiliation at her degrading remark.

"Drugs." I finally say simply, deciding that I'd tell her.

Her thin eyebrows rise for a particle of a second and then she grins.

"I didn't know basketball boys smoked it up! Here, take this, breath deep, life's short." She offers me her smoke; I take it gratefully and suck in the sweet nicotine into my lungs.

"Will precious Coach be angry?" she says mischievously. I don't like her talking about basketball like that. She makes it sound juvenile, but basketball is one of the few things that I can say that I love and is always there for me.

"Probably." I say, trying to sound nonchalant.

She giggles, and puts her hand on my arm.

Wow, fuck, contact, minimal but significant.

In that leap, I am more ready to have sex than I ever have been in my entire life. More turned on than any other date with Taylor, or time I watched high quality porn. This is it, the tiger is out.

I can't possibly be any more turned on, her long slender hand on my forearm, her glossy nails against my skin. Her breath, her scent, her laugh, her legs, oh God, I won't be able to make it out of this one with out a dark spot on my jeans.

She knows. I know she knows. She knows that I know that she knows.

She takes her hand off.

Fuuuuuucccck.

I take a deep breath and stub the cigarette out. I stand and grab my pack, "Better go." I mumble.

I head for the door.

"I won't tell." She says, I turn, "Thanks."

"About the drugs." She explains.

"Oh, ok, thanks, yeah, it'd be better if that was kept under the hood, ya know." Shit, if anything leaks, Coach finds out, I'm history.

She nods; her eyes cast downward, her knees presses together, her black velvety headband holding her hair out of her face. I wanna see her hair in her face.

I turn again, start up the steps, and get three steps up when she says loudly, "Are you a virgin?"

Shit, she's forward. I remain with my back to her.

"No." I lie.

"Taylor is." She tells me.

"Duh, we've never gotten it on." I say rather harshly, I don't like her knowing so much.

"What an uptight bitch. I know Zeke would go crazy if I didn't bang him." Oh, shit, yeah, she still goes out with Zeke! I totally forgot! They're always smiling, holding hands, eating lunch together, being all cute and couply like Troy and Gabriella.

"I know, she is an uptight bitch." I quote her while turning to face her, it feels so effing good to hear someone say that. Someone else speak the words that have been heavy on my mind for months. Finally, someone agrees with me. No more, "Oh, she's a good girl!" or, "Don't rush stuff so much!"

Sharpay pauses, I can tell she's thinking of ways to keep me down her. What the fuck for? As far as I see it, she's in a great relationship with Zeke, so why is she playing with me?

"Do you like Zeke?" I'm asking the awkward questions this time. She smiles, "I love him." She replies, no hesitation whatsoever. Ok, I won't lie, I'm disappointed.

"Who did you lose your virginity to?" she asks.

"Tossed that fucking hot potato with a cheerleader, forgot her name." I say easily, I wonder if she'll go snooping around and try to find out.

She nods, and then I see her eyes rake over me. She's checking me out! No joke, I've seen that look before, on other girls. The eyes go up and down, and they purse their lips thoughtfully. First my hair, then my chest, then my ass, then my shoes. Over and over again.

But this time, Sharpay's eyes on the bulge in my pants.

It's humiliating but invigorating.

"What are you looking at?" I demand

"Your cock." She says, so vulgar that I'm blushing crimson.

"You love Zeke's cock." I say back, hoping to inject some sanity to the conversation.

"And I like yours too." She whispers, she looks so crazy sexy, her eyes bright, voice low, chest heaving slightly.

"And I bet you'll like my vagina better than slutty cheerleader's." she says, stepping forward.

My heart is pounding so hard that I feel like I'm suffocating. "Who's talking about sluts?" I shoot back. She smiles and slides her tongue over her lips maliciously.

"I don't care." She says.

"I know you don't." I wheeze.

She's coming closer all the while, approaching me on the stairs, so painfully slowly. I half expect her to rip her clothes off in a frenzy and come at me like an animal in heat.

But she stops when she gets to the foot of the stairs, we stare into each other's eyes for the longest time. My breathing quickens and I feel like all the morality in the world should go to hell because I've never wanted to sleep with a girl so bad.

But we're in school, Darbus could come back and find us, I have Taylor, she has Zeke, and I'm telling lies mixed with crazy true shit that I haven't told anyone before.

Then, abruptly, she turns and goes back to her stool. She smoothes her hair and sits back down daintily, snapping her purse shut.

I blink, ok, now what? I come down the rest of the steps haltingly, never breaking my gaze from her.

"What the fuck?" I say, my voice hoarse with lust. She looks like she's thinking about something very intensely for a minute.

"Where were you gonna get your drugs from?" she asks out of the blue.

"Oh, uh, Dylan." I blurt out, all disoriented, and shit from our previous dialogue.

"McCoy?" she sneers, "All he has is weed, he doesn't have anything decent."

"What do you got?" I ask, feeling a jump of excitement at the thought of getting high at last for the first time all week.

She grins and beckons me to come to her, I go obediently to her side as she fishes around in her purse for a second and then pulls out a bunch of different colored tablets in a baggie exactly like Andrea's. My stomach jumps, "What's that?" I ask.

"Just swallow it, and then ask." She orders me, dropping a couple in my hand. I dry swallow them and watch her do the same.

She smiles and tucks the baggie back into her purse.

"Now, we're both gonna be smashed as hell so maybe, if I'm lucky, you won't remember what I do to you and no one's the wiser!" she laughs, and she wraps her arms around my neck.

And kisses.

Hard. With tongue.

And with a gasp, I'm lost.

In less then a second, I'm completely absorbed in Sharpay. The passion, the lust, the raw wrongness of it all. I'm so hungry for her that I nearly bite her lips off and she responds with equal enthusiasm. I push her up against the wall, and I let my hands rove. Over her clothed breast, over her thighs, her neck, her hair, I'm touching everything, and she isn't stopping me! It feels so good I could cry.

Why the fuck has Taylor been holding out on me? Shit, if we were doing this every weekend, there's no way in hell that I'd ever leave her.

Shit, I push Taylor out of my head and work on maintaining dominance in our kisses. Sharpay is one aggressive tonsil hockey player and it's actually hard holding my own. I smile into her mouth and then nip at her chin, cheeks, and neck.

Her hands trail down my jeans, and she does her magic. I moan, oh the delicious heat, the warm wetness of her mouth, her heavy breathing. I whimper, "Babe, babe, babe. Ugh, don't stop, please, oh God." And she giggles into my neck, making every square inch of me sweat

I don't think I can ever stop.

And I didn't.

Boxers fell, skirt came up.

And I lost my virginity to her.

To Sharpay Evans. My fifth grade crush.

In the lower stage part of the theatre, against the cement wall.

With me thinking about Taylor and with Sharpay, East High's Ice Queen, moaning obscenities in my ear.

It was unreal. No fucking lie.

_**Hey hey! One of my first real sex scenes! I'm sorry for all of you who were hoping for a NC17 rating or something but I wanted to keep this as undetailed as possible so that you all can let your imaginations run wild. Review and tell me if you hate it or not!**_


	6. Chapter 6

_**Getting the chapters done faster! Yay. This one is violent, just as a warning. **_

_**Enjoy!**_

It's the morning of Oct 31st. Troy's having a big Halloween party at his place tonight. I remember how he and I used to dress up in matching outfits for years and go together, roaming from door to door in our neighborhood, collecting Twixes and Blow Pops. We always were something very kick butt. Like twin Supermans or two ninjas, or two microwaves. Ok, microwaves, I know, but we were seven!

It's Friday.

Yesterday was Thursday.

Yesterday, I was a virgin.

It's Friday, so now I'm not.

It definitely feels different. I don't know what the fuck people are talking about when they say it doesn't change anything. It does. I feel weird. Like when I had sex with Sharpay, I lost something. Like she chewed a hole clean through me. And I feel like I gained something. Like she left some scrap of herself in me.

I don't know, it's fucked up and different.

Anyway, I'm thinking about this as I ride the bus, sitting by myself in the back. The bus is quiet cause there's only a few people on it, me, the driver, and some freshmans, plus everyone's half asleep in their seats, nodding off, or staring blankly outside, or listening to their iPod Shuffles. I feel like an idiot because I still am stuck taking the bus to school while Troy and Zeke have their own cars.

Gabriella used to take the bus and we'd sit and chat, but now she is picked up by Troy.

Whatever. I don't mind being alone. It lets me think. Oh, wait that's bad. It's cold, one of those days where the morning is freezing and by noon, you're sizzling. I wrap my jacket around me tighter and turn to look outside.

I stare out the window, at the wide pale sky. It's still early so a few stars still cling to it, fighting the rising sun, but the pink horizon beats them, stealing the attention, sending spurts of color upwards, yellow, orange, purple. It's beautiful.

And the landscape is just as nice. The gray early light warms the red chalky dust, beaming around the cacti and withered trees, casting black shadows. It's so nice that I actually take out my cell, and snap a picture. Small, but I'm satisfied .It looks so silent, so peaceful, I wish I could stand out there. In the abyss, away from the noise and the pollution of life. And just sit with the jack rabbits and lizards in the dirt all day.

I always liked mornings. When I was little, I was always the first one up in my house. I would jump on Harper first because he slept in the same room as I.

He was really tall and skinny, so I had to choose carefully where to jump because I never knew what was where with him. I usually aimed right and would plop myself on his stomach and he'd give a loud "Arrumph!" and then grab me and tickle me until I was laughing so hard I could pee.

Then I'd run straight to Andrea's room, and flip the light switch, and she always got grumpy. Then, before she could catch me, I'd dart into my parents big master bedroom, where I knew I'd be safe from my Morning Monster Sister's wrath, and I'd yank off my parent's floral blankets. They'd always laugh and rumple my hair. "I love waking up to my sunshine baby." My mom would say, smiling.

I still like mornings now, but usually I'm too annoyed with my family or feeling too sick from staying up all night, looking at porn or popping E.

However, this morning, it's good, because my parents were tired and slept in, and Andrea went to work early so it's been peaceful so far.

School is more excited than usual, since tonight everyone has big plans to dress up like freak shows and get hammered drunk. I waltz to homeroom, late as always, everybody's in his or her seats already, and Darbus is making morning announcements.

"Ahh, Danforth, you've finally graced us with your attendance." She says sarcastically when she spots me. I shrug, not in the debate mood. Clearly, Darbus wasn't either. "Sit down, and be quiet." She says, going back to her chair.

Yes, no detention, and if I just shut my ass up maybe today will actually be good.

I see Sharpay examining herself in her compact, she doesn't acknowledge presence. I won't lie, I feel slightly crestfallen, it's not as if I was expecting all this kissing and smiles and shit, ok, maybe I was. But why does she have to return to being such an icy bitch so fast again?

Whatever, I collapse into my seat, without noticing that Taylor had smiled warmly at me.

After class, where I sat thinking about Sharpay's neck the whole time, I bolt for the door, in front of the rest, I hear Troy laugh at my eagerness.

"Stoked about tonight, buddy?" he comes up beside me, wrapping his arm around my neck and squeezing roughly, making me stumble and laugh. I shove him away, "You bet, what are you going as?"

He makes a flourishing bow, waving his hands, "Ze Count of Monte Cristo, at your service!" he says dramatically in a very bad French accent.

I crack up, "That's so random! How do you come up with that? And plus, that guy didn't have an accent."

Troy chuckles, "It was Gab's idea; she's going as some girl from the early 1800's, Jane Austen or something weird. Anyhow, she wanted me to wear tights but I refused so now I'm wearing these breaches as she called them."

I recoil, "Ew, a leotard?" Troy pushes me playfully, "What are you going as, dumb ass?"

"Ehh, hadn't really given it to much thought, but I'm thinking like a dead skater dude. You know, blood on my face, broken skate board, all that cool shit." I say.

Troy nods, "Sounds good, man. Gotta a date?"

"Shit, we need dates?" I hadn't thought of it.

"We don't need them but I assumed you'd ask Taylor to like come with you. Why, are you guys ok?" he looks worried.

"No, no, I haven't, but I will. We're fine." I say quickly.

"Well, ok, only if you're sure, man. Taylor and you haven't been talking much and she told Gabriella that she's worried about you." Troy tells me.

"Oh?" I'm nervous. "Why?"

"I don't know, something about you being distant. And she said that you always look sick. You always look tired and tense, are you feeling ok, man?" Troy's looking at me carefully, as if trying to read me.

I shake my head, my mopish hair swinging in my face, "I'm fine. I've just been tired and stuff with college. My parents are making a huge deal about it." I lie.

Troy nods understandingly, "I know, my dad doesn't shut up about it, it makes me nervous. But, hey, you know you should talk to Taylor about it, she knows all about it."

I scoff; Taylor's the last person I want to talk about my future with. Especially after yesterday. I get a flashback of Sharpay groaning with lust and suddenly my insides burn again.

"Yeah, I should, man." I tell Troy.

Then, Troy heads to drama class, as I go to Taylor's locker where she's carefully putting at least ten big books crammed in my bag. I do the dorky cute things boyfriends always do; I sneak up behind her and put my hands over my eyes. She laughs.

"Hi, Chad." She says, turning, and I can't get over how damn nice she looks. Shit, and right after I cheated in her two. She's wearing a white woolen sweater with a V-neck so I can plenty of bust and a cute black skirt just snug enough for my liking. Long sparkly earrings and red lipstick, she looks so hott.

"Hey," I say, leaning on her locker, so close to her I almost brush against her body. Cinnamon clouds my senses. "Hi, hon." She says, she seems glad I'm talking to her. She probably was worried that I wouldn't anymore after that lake date fiasco weeks ago.

"So, what are you doing tonight?" I ask, as I always do. It's a custom, I ask and then she says…

"Homework."

I laugh, "Cancel it; we're going to Troy's party tonight." She smiles, "Ok, what are you going as?"

"Dead skate boarder. Blood and guts and a skateboard." She grimaces, "Delightful, I'm going to be a fairy god mother."

"Ooh, sexy, so you and I can be immortal beings together." I flirt; she smirks, "Very funny. The party's around nine so I pick you up, 8:45ish?"

"Sounds good, don't be late."

She rolls her brown eyes, "I never am."

"See you, hon! I wave as I walk away.

"Chad! Wait!" she shouts, I turn, "Yeah?"

She pauses, biting her lip, "I missed you." She says, and fuck, she's so sincere that it makes me writhe with guilt; I hadn't missed her at all.

"You too, baby. Can't wait for tonight and see you all prettied up for me." I wink and walk away, not knowing that she had gotten dressed up for me all week and I hadn't even fucking noticed.

**HSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSM**

I hadn't seen Sharpay all throughout the rest of the day and was disappointed. I wasn't sure if she'd be going to Troy's party or not but I could always hope.

I come home and the house is empty and silent, I eat some Chef Boyardee and watch Punk'd. Then, I steal some E from Andrea's vanity and dry swallow it easily. I also take some lipstick and dark eye make up.

I don't really have any punk rock clothes, I mostly am preppy, but I find an old pair of baggy army pants and a white long sleeved shirt. Then, I carefully smear dark eye shadow and eyeliner all around my eyes so they look sunken in and, then some purple on the cheekbones for bruises, then I creatively daub red lipstick here and there and voila! I look impressively dead! I did face paint at my eight-year-old cousin's birthday party once so I'm pretty savvy with brushes and shit.

I root through our kitchen and find some red food coloring my mom uses to dye icing pink and I blotch my shirt and pants with it to look like wounds.

Hat, hat, I need a hat. I pull my hair in a ponytail, and an old tattered Red Sox hat completes my look.

Its 8:30, Taylor will be here soon, I wonder what her costume will look like. Probably like a long poofy ball gown and dorky glittery children's wings.

I sit in the surgically clean family room and watch Bikini Island, waiting for Taylor's headlight to come flooding through our big picture window.

Nine o'clock comes and goes, Taylor is never late. Ever. Maybe she got in an accident. I call her cell and she doesn't pick up. I'm not panicking but definitely am uneasy,

Finally, at nine thirty, I lock my front door and set off to walk to Troy's party. It's not far, about three miles. It's cold, and dark, and there are drunks out but I trudge along the sidewalk, hands shoved deep in my pockets, and I'm thinking so hard that I forget to bring my skateboard.

When I show up, I see that the party is in full swing. Coach Bolton would never allow alcohol so; everyone snuck it in and is drinking their beers in Red Bull cans and sports drink bottles. Loud rap music blares, the front yard is crowded with people, some guys are throwing a Nerf ball around, I can barely squeeze through the front door, the house is packed, people are even sitting on the stairs. Laughing, tripping, kissing, it's crazy and harsh. I feel light headed.

Everyone's wearing bizarre outfits, mermaids, knights, cats, zombies, hippies, cowboys, and kitchenware. I see Jason briefly and he's dressed as Ron Burgundy.

I squeeze through, "Scuse me, sorry, my bad." I repeat over and over again as I fight my way to the kitchen.

And finally, I manage to stumble through and boom I smack into Gabriella, she's dressed in a old fashioned dress, her hair all pinned up elegantly. She doesn't look particularly thrilled.

"Sorry, Gab, what's up? Yo, nice outfit! Who are you, Scarlet O'Hara?"

"No, Elizabeth Bennett." She says, her tone blank.

"Cool! No idea who she is!" I grin.

"Troy's looking for you." She says, and suddenly, I catch her drift. Something's wrong. Majorly.

"Oh, ok, where is he? Tell him that I'm here." I tell her.

She looks over my shoulder and I turn and see that he's already there. He's wearing a blue overcoat with a ruffly shirt collar and these tan tight pants and cool shiny boots, and his face is the essence of the word, pissed off.

"Dude, uhh, cool shoes. Count of Monte Cristo, right?" I say, hoping that I can postpone whatever catastrophe with politeness.

"Mr. Darcy." Gabriella corrects me.

"Aha, very hard core." I praise. Troy grabs my arm, suddenly, and jerks me away; he's twisting my arm so tightly it kills.

"Ouch, what the fuck?" I struggle but Troy overpowers me and yanks me into the unoccupied bathroom. Thankfully, no vomit yet. He whams the door shut, locks it, and turns on the light switch. I'm staring at him; I've never seen him like this before. He's glaring at me, breathing hard.

'Um," I start to say but Troy's yell cuts me off.

"What the hell?" he shouts, I flinch.

"Um," I swallow,

"What the hell?" he screams again, manically.

I take a step backward and he comes forward, slamming me into sink.

"What were you thinking of?" he says, quieter but even more angry, his nostrils flaring

He knows. Shit. Gabriella knows. Fuck, everyone knows.

Taylor kn-

No, no, please, God no.

"What are you talking about?" I fake dumb, I'm excellent at that.

And he pushes me hard in the chest, nearly knocking the wind from me.

"You know damn well what I mean!" Troy hollers.

I shake my head and he grabs my shoulders roughly and bangs me against the mirror, I'm practically sitting on the counter now, with Troy cornering me.

"Admit it!" he yells.

"Admit what?" I challenge, trying to loosen his grip on me, but his hands are full of my shirt and he won't let go.

"That you did it!" he accuses.

"Did what?" I sneer back.

Shit, Troy, you're my best friend, don't say it. Don't say it. Save me, save me, save me by not saying it and making it never be known.

"That you had sex with Sharpay." He whispers. His blue eyes clouded with anger and bewilderment. And his soft tone breaks me into far tinier pieces then his yelling ever could have.

I tip my head back, and fight a rising lump in my throat.

"I don't know." I can barely speak it hurts so bad.

"Man, you cheated on Taylor. You broke her heart."

I close my eyes and the darkness burns.

"She knows?" I croak.

Troy's hands relax and he slumps back, "Of course, everyone does. Kelsi heard you in the auditorium and told Ryan who was overhead by Martha who can't keep her fat mouth shut and now, the entire school knows that Chad Danforth got laid with Sharpay Evans."

This is a nightmare. No, this is worse, this is hell. Pure hell.

Kelsi heard us. Heard us. Sweet innocent Kelsi whom I actually think is nice and one of the few tolerable people left in school heard me moaning. Sweating, begging Sharpay, heard the slapping of skin, the bumping and thrusting against the wall, heard her scream my name, heard me wail hers.

Oh fuck, I feel sick.

I open my eyes and Troy looks so disheartened that I don't see how life is worth living.

I had no idea that while I got it on with Sharpay that I'd be hurting so many people. My girlfriend, my best friend, my girlfriend's best friend.

Shit.

Troy takes a deep breath. "Dude, tell me why?"

I explode, "Cause she's fucking hott, ok? Because I can't tell you how many times I've fantasized about her naked, ok? Because I needed to have sex so badly that every night I lay in my bed and masturbated until I ached, dreaming of her! Because Taylor is a prude. Because I wanted to do something. Something crazy! Something outrageous! Something wrong! Something that hurts! Something that I regret for the rest of my life! Ok? Happy?" I'm hysterical, screaming, waving my hands around.

Troy nods, "Well, now you've done it, are you happy?"

I fucking hate him.

"No." I say, and my voice cracks and I want to cry so badly but I won't, I haven't in years. And I won't tonight. Ever.

Troy grabs my shoulder and makes me look at him, "Zeke is going to kill you." He says, dead serious.

Oh, my god. I had forgotten about Zeke.

"Shit, what do I do?" I panic.

"Apologize to him." Troy says, as if it's as easy as asking your parents for five bucks. He has no clue. Zeke is tall and he could knock me flat. I've never seen him angry, I never want to.

I stare at Troy, "No way."

Troy shrugs, suddenly nonchalant, "You screwed up, man, you fix it."

Oh, god, no I need him. I need him to help me.

"Fine, I don't need your fucking help." I retort.

And I fumble for the door and blindly stumble out, bumping into a tall red head girl.

"Watch it, oh look, its Sharpay's Sex toy." She mocks and her silly trio giggles.

I shove them away, "Fuck off." And I head for the front door, I need to get out. Out. Out. Out of here, home. I need to get home. Anywhere but here. I need to get to my safe room. Safe room, that's right, concentrate on getting to my safe room.

"YOU BASTARD!"

I'm less than ten feet from the door and I hear Taylor's frenetic voice.

Shit, I can't move fast enough. I keep walking.

"FREEZE!"

I obey.

I turn around and Taylor is a wreck. I was right, a long white shimmery gown with white glittery wings, a plastic wand, and a little tiara on her head. Her silvery make up is all smeared from crying and she's more upset than I've ever seen her.

"How could you?" she screeches.

I'm not going to play weak like I first did with Troy.

I'm not going to hide, or lie this time.

"I wanted to." I say bluntly.

She stops, shocked.

"You sick bastard. I gave you everything!" she sobs.

"Not what I needed. You gave me shit when I needed sex. I need it, Taylor, sorry to be crude. But I'm a normal red blooded guy and you didn't fit the bill."

She stares, "You're no gentleman, you're a dog!" she screams.

"I never said I was a fucking gentleman, you were always trying to make me something I wasn't! I'm not a math genius or the prefect date! I am who I am, got that? And I change for no one! Not for you, not for Troy, and not for God!" I roar back. A crowd is gathered around us, staring, whispering, I don't even care.

"You just told me sweet shit so you could sneak off to detention to that Sharpay slut!" Taylor snaps.

"Yeah, maybe I did, but just for the record, she initiated it."

Taylor snorts in humorless amusement.

"Yeah right, I know you liked her. You dissed her and pretended not to care, but I saw you admiring her legs and watching her during class. I saw it all! And I tried so hard to get you back, I was so nice all week, dressing up, saying hi but you didn't even look at me! You always were somewhere else, your eyes so far away. And I'm sick of trying to be slutty and appealing, Chad! I won't sleep with you! It'd break my parents heart and plus, I don't really want to so there!"

"Fine! I didn't want to get laid with your fat ass anyway. Get away from me, you stupid Conservative bitch. I hate you!" I can't believe how cruel I can be. It sickens me. Stop talking. Just stop talking.

Her face crumples again and she flees the scene, sobbing into her hands stormily, Gabriella runs to her side.

"We're finished!" Taylor shrieked over her shoulder.

"Good! I was done with you ages ago anyhow!" I say furiously.

"You'll be sorry for this Chad! Just you wait!" she says as she disappears in the crush of intoxicated teenagers but I'm too mad to care.

"Yeah, go, bitch, we don't care!" I hear a shrill screech. And a very smashed Sharpay staggers forth. She's clutching a root beer can that smells strongly of whiskey and her speech is slurred so badly I can hardly hear a word.

"Nobody cares about you, McKessie! Good riddance! Only reason I shagged your little boyfriend is because he was so uptight and dying for release that I felt bad for the damn kid." She shouts.

Shit, oh shit, she doesn't care about me. She doesn't dream of me. Like I did of her. I was just a good fuck. A way to make Zeke jealous.

Sharpay trips and crashes onto me, laughing insanely. "Oh, Chad, babes, you don't need her." Sharpay kisses me sloppily on the corner of my mouth and I shove her away. She revolts me.

I turn and try to break free of the circle of people but I feel an insanely powerful arm grab my neck and slam me to the floor.

The rest is a blur of pain.

Zeke's yelling at me, I hear his cusses and accusations through the haze of agony. His face above me is contorted in this barbaric rage. He's probably drunk too, I smell it.

"PIECE OF SHIT! LOUSY MOTHERFUCKER, FUCKING WITH MY GIRL, HUH? I'M GONNA CUT YOU UP! AND I'M GONNA BURN YOU! FUCK, FUCK YOU, BASTARD! SHITTY LYING FUCK! I THOUGHT YOU WERE MY FRIEND!"

I can't understand a word he's saying, but if I did, I'm sure I'd be trying to apologize.

Again and again, his fists come in contact with my face, I feel something crack and swelling on my lip and above my eye. Blood gushes from my nose and I can't breath. I moan and try to twist away but he rolls me over, sits on my chest, and grabs my throat, strangling me.

I gasp and choke, writhing, I see orange spots.

Then, someone wrenches him off, I can't even sit up. I hear shouts, screaming, swearing, glass breaking, and some people crying. Then thundering.

Wait, that's people running.

Past me, through the door, banging in to me head, kicking me on purpose or by mistake, stepping on my hands, and sloshing their alcohol on me.

I roll over and look up the ceiling, a little chandelier hangs in the Bolton's entryway. I can barely see it, my vision is so foggy.

"Chad?"

Blessed darkness.

**HSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHS**

I come to by throwing up, violently. The hand that had been slapping my face jerks out of sight as I puke my insides up, I don't even aim. Just up all over me.

"Ew, shit, man."

Troy.

Thank God, I need someone whose not gonna hate me. Or maybe he does. Well, at least I know he won't act like it.

I struggle to focus, I open my eyes wider, and they water insanely.

My face feels like a piece of butchered meat, exquisitely tender and raw to the touch. I graze my forehead with my thumb as I push my hair away and it sears with unearthly pain.

I look around and realize I'm in the bathroom again, Troy must've dragged me in here, I'm laying on the cold tiled floor and he's crouching next to me. "Can you sit up?" he asks me. I nod and wince, and he grabs me under my armpits and heaves me up so I'm now perched on the toilet.

"Ah, ok, better, now I need to do something about that face." Troy fishes out the First Aid kit and opens it up. I feel like a truck ran over my. My side aches and I can barely talk, my jaw is actually numb.

"What happened?" Troy stops and looks at me, "It was really bad, dude." He says calmly.

He kneels in front of me and holding a damp cloth, he gentle touches my forehead with it. I scream, and jerk back. It hurts so badly, I can't stand it.

Troy recoils. "Ok, dude, then, can you take off the shirt? It reeks." I struggle to comply but my arms are too heavy and my hands are too big so Troy sighs and disregarding the vomit, he reaches over and gently lifts my shirt over my head. He tosses it into the shower stall and runs some hot water over it.

I forget on what a good friend he is. What stupid shit I need him to do. How he does it, no questions.

"Zeke was beating me up." I say, somewhat tonelessly, as if I don't believe it myself.

Troy doesn't say anything.

"What happened?" I beg.

Troy sighs, "Zeke went berserk, and it was freaking everyone out. He was seriously going to kill you so I ran forward to stop it but Sharpay who was acting crazy, crying, got to you before I did. She yanked Zeke away and he punched her accidentally. Her mouth started bleeding so Ryan took her home. She was in hysteria, sobbing your name. Then, my dad called the cops, he was really mad at me, said that I couldn't keep a party under control. The cops showed up real fast and Zeke bailed before they could grab him. So, now I'm grounded, my parents went to bed arguing, and my house is a mess, and you're a wreck. But at least, I didn't tell my parents it was your fault. I covered for you; otherwise, they would've chucked you with the rest of them. Thank me."

"Thank you." I snuffle.

I stand up, the ground spins and tips, and I nearly fall, but Troy grabs my arm and steadies me, I look in the mirror and gasp.

Is that me?

My face is swollen, and a Picasso of cuts, bruises, scrapes, dried blood, real and fake, make up smeared everywhere, my eyes are bloodshot, and look like they're peering out of tunnels, my eye make up is all runny and messy.

My nose isn't broken but my teeth are bloody and the sides of my head are pounding so hard that I feel ready to burst.

I bend over, turn the faucet on its hottest, and scoop the scalding water onto my face.

The indescribable pain, there are no words for it. Past physical normalcy, such pain.

But I have to clean out the cuts. Cleanse them expose them, heal them with such heat.

How I wish water could clean the pain and scars inside of me.

I growl and splash water on my damaged face again, and again, I'm shaking badly I can barely function. I'm leaning over the pouring water, the steam rising, panting. Troy reaches over and turns off the faucet.

"Don't torture yourself." He tells me, handing me a soft clean towel, which I ever so gently pat my face with, and its still tingling so I barely feel it.

I look back in the mirror. Red, and purple, and swollen but the lack of make up is an improvement.

"Wanna put some medicine on it?" he holds up a tube of antiseptic. I nod and he squirts out some of the thick paste on his finger and dabs it in my face, the sting is sharp but I suck it up.

I suddenly get a random memory of being about nine year's old and playing Troy by this creek that we had found. Troy had slipped and cut his knee badly and I had carried him on my back to my house and bandaged up his knee for him. I remember his mother praising me, I remember being so proud that I could take care of my best friend, I remember being as careful as can be as I wrapped his leg in toilet paper. "I'll be your doctor, and you never have to worry because I'm always gonna be there to make sure you never get an owies." I had told him, and Troy grinned and munched on the cookie I had given him, trusting me, thinking everything I did was right.

Those were the days. Before college applications, before parental tyranny, before sex, before betrayal, before drugs, before all of this bad shit.

"Dude, you ok?" Troy's looking at me as he puts some more medicine on his finger and works it on my forehead. Its cold, and it hurts, I squirm and lean away, "Don't press so much." I say, whining.

Troy complies wordlessly.

"Hey, you gotta help me clean up my house." He says after a minute or two, "You owe me, plus tomorrow's Saturday anyhow."

"Sure, I don't care. Not tonight though." I say.

"Oh, yeah, pssh, not tonight. I'm dead. Tomorrow morning. Hey, wanna sleep over? Still have your some of your stuff that you left when you last slept over. My mom washed your nasty boxers." He teases.

I grin, and my lip cracks and bleeds.

"Whoa, shit." I wipe it away shakily. Troy gently smoothes some medicine over my hurt lip, his touch is incredibly gentle and soothing. He's so calming. I don't know, maybe its cause he's my brother.

"Thanks man." I say, Troy nods and washes his hands, he switches off the light. "Let's crash, man. Tomorrow, we'll clean." He says, opening the door and going out. I look around and shit, I hadn't noticed how trashed a house can get.

Streamers, mashed chips, CDs, pieces of glass, even baloney is all over the floor, walls, furniture, everywhere.

"Shit, we'll be at it all day!" I'm amazed.

"Yeah, well, you have to help." Troy says, going upstairs. I follow him and the upstairs is just as bad. We go into Troy's room and it looks as it always does.

Chaos. Basketball shit, clothes, empty cardboard boxes, and exercise equipment is everywhere. A GreenDay poster on the wall, along with one of Michael Jordan. His laptop sits at his big desk, humming, a wallpaper of Gabriella and him at the beach set at the back.

He flops onto his bed and pries off his sneakers, "Hope no one had sex in here." He says, tentatively sniffing his sheets, which even have basketballs on them. I lay down the other twin mattress he keeps in his room, just for me, and don't even bother taking off my shoes. "I don't care if they did." I yawn.

He chuckles and pulls the covers up to his chin. He turns off his lamp so we're both immerged in blackness.

Silence, I hear him breathing, slow, deep. I know he's awake. Probably thinking of Gabriella.

"Dude?" I say.

"I'm tired, Chad." Troy says, he always says that but tonight he sounds it.

I don't care.

"Are you mad at me?"

Breathing, he's thinking.

"No," he says at last.

"Are you disgusted?" I ask next.

He pauses even longer, "Yeah." he says finally.

"I'm sorry." I say.

"Don't apologize to me. Apologize to Taylor, and Zeke, and Sharpay."

"Sharpay?" I'm mad, "She pounced me!"

Troy doesn't say anything.

"Do you believe me?" I'm scared, if Troy doesn't, then I have lost every ally in the world.

"Yeah, I do. I knew she was interested in you. I heard her talking to Kelsi about you."

I know I shouldn't but I feel better and something inside of me relaxes, so she did feel something, yes.

"But that doesn't mean you shouldn't say sorry. Just apologize for the entire mess. You didn't need to go along with her when she basically made herself available to you. You should say sorry for failing to say no at the time."

Troy sounds like a parent.

But one that gives a fuck.

"You're right." I say, I don't plan to apologize though.

"But I'm just bummed about the whole thing dude. I thought you had a great thing going with Taylor but I should've figured something was wrong after you told me about that date with Taylor, where you kissed her and she got mad, and you started talking about Sharpay . I should've done something."

I can't believe it. Troy feels bad? For what I did? The world is a mess.

"I stopped liking Taylor while ago." I confess.

"I know, but that was a shitty way to break it to her." Troy chides me.

"Was I too mean tonight?" I ask.

"Totally. I had never heard anyone fight like that before in my life, and I know my grandparents." Troy said.

I feel like shit.

"Hey, how come you didn't fight back when Zeke hit you?" he asks randomly.

Oh, hell, I don't know.

"I deserved it." I say.

Troy thinks for a minute.

"A punch is fair, or maybe two, that's why I didn't stop him at first, you needed your ass kicked a little and I wasn't going to do it, but Zeke went too far. He was out of control; it wasn't a fair fight at all. You should've stood up for yourself a little, man."

Shit, this is stupid, First, he tells me I deserve it, the he says I was basically a wimp for not fighting back? What the fuck?

"Troy?

"Yeah?"

I lick my lips, I have this question burning inside of me, but I don't know what the words are.

"Never mind."

"No, what?" Troy pries.

"No, forget it." I say quickly.

"Ok, man. Let's get some sleep. We'll be busting out asses like maids tomorrow." Troy says, I hear him roll over, and a few minutes later, I hear soft snores.

He's out like a light.

I lay in bed for a while longer, my hands behind my head, staring at his fading glow in the dark stars I know so well.

I sit up, I check to make sure Troy's asleep, he mumbles and scratches himself absently. Yep, he's asleep.

Then, I slip out of bed, into the dark hallway and creep to the bathroom. Its cold.

I lock the door and turn on the light. I squint as I open up the mirror cabinet and take out one of Troy's electric shavers.

I carefully take one of the spare razors.My breathing is fast as I slide out the small razor from its package. I look at myself in the foggy bathroom mirror and see a young sad damp face stare back at me, with deeply circled haunted eyes and a mouth that looked like it quite had forgotten how to smile.  
And I look away, disgusted by my own reflection, and without a second thought, I dig the metal shard deep into my wrist. Blood springs up and seeps across my skin, and the pain fires up my entire arm.

I wince, and felt a sudden spasm of nausea and revulsion for this horrific self-mutilation practice I now just have inflicted upon myself. I shake the sickened feeling away and gouge another cut.The blood is alarming, I can't stand looking at it, and I lift my face upwards and squeeze my eyes shut. Trying to block out all the emotional agony and lifeblood pouring from my body.**  
**After several tense minutes, I manage to get a hold of myself, and I clean the blood up, wipe it off the counter, bandage my arm crudely with toilet paper, and snagging one of Troy's shirts from the laundry bin the in corner, I yank it on and carefully roll long shirtsleeve down. Then, I wash my face and look in the mirror again. Same face, but calmer, drier. I inhale and exhale deeply. "That's the first and last time I ever do that." I swear to myself  
Problem is, is that it isn't.

_**I know that some of the moments between Troy and Chad appear slashy but I promise you that they are not. I love how brotherly Troy and Chad are and I don't want to ruin it. They are as straight as they come in this fic. Thank you.**_

_**Please review!**_


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